


The Road Not Taken

by HoopyFrood



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Fate & Destiny, Heart-to-Heart, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Missed Opportunities, Moral Ambiguity, Obsessive Behavior, Pre-Relationship, Rivalry, Unresolved Tension, What Could Have Been
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:13:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22536823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoopyFrood/pseuds/HoopyFrood
Summary: Aleister and Buddy have a talk. Post-RAW 27/01/2020.
Relationships: Aleister Black | Tommy End/Buddy Murphy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	The Road Not Taken

“Congratulations.”

Buddy startles so badly he almost drops his RAW tag-team belt.

He spins around to see Aleister Black sitting cross-legged on one of the many equipment cases that litter the backstage area, one half of him shrouded in darkness, the other illuminated by the flickering light above them.

“For what?” he asks suspiciously, holding the belt close to his chest as if expecting Aleister to swoop in and snatch it from him.

“For retaining the titles. Rolling up Kevin Owens is no mean feat.”

Buddy blinks in surprise. “Right… Thanks, I suppose.” Buddy should leave it at that, continue on his way down to catering for a well-deserved cup of coffee, but that’s always been a problem of his; grabbing tighter instead of letting go, turning towards instead of away. So he cocks his chin up and stares Aleister down. “I heard you in the ring earlier, how you think you made a mistake by asking the locker room to come to you for a fight instead of going to them. Did I break you, Black?” He asks, derision dripping from every word.

“Perhaps you did,” Aleister concedes and Buddy takes a stumbled step backwards as Aleister unfolds his long legs and climbs off the case to stand in front of him. He’s still in his ring gear, every single one of his elaborate tattoos on display for the world to see. Buddy has never faced anyone even half as intimidating as Aleister Black. Maybe it’s because he has so much trouble tearing his eyes away from him, can never seem to help himself from following the lines of ink etched onto his skin and the curves of his muscles. And that scares him more than the likes of Lesnar or the Fiend ever could.

“Seth’s just down the hall. Akam and Rezar, too. I wouldn’t try anything if I was you,” Buddy warns.

“What would you have done if it had been me to comfort you?” Aleister asks and Buddy’s breath hitches. “To offer you… salvation? Was it merely the act of someone, anyone, reaching out, or is Seth different? Does his touch and his alone make you burn?”

Embarrassingly, Buddy feels his cheeks heat. “You don’t know anything about me,” he spits.

“I thought we were destined to do this forever,” Aleister admits.

“Yeah, well, you thought wrong. Did you really expect me to keep coming back for more like a kicked puppy? Any wrestler worth his salt wouldn’t put up with being laid out by the same opponent week after week. You never saw us as equals, Black. Not really.”

Aleister frowns, eyes darting all over Buddy’s face as if looking for something, before his expression eventually clears in understanding. “You truly believe that,” he states with wonder. He reaches out and it takes all of Buddy’s willpower not to flinch away. He stays defiantly rooted to the spot and lets Aleister gently skim his fingers across his cheek. “You’re exquisite. I always thought so. I assumed you knew that.” Buddy’s heart feels like it’s ricocheting off the inside of his ribcage. It hurts almost as much as Aleister’s gentle touch. “It’s obvious now that I didn’t do enough.”

Buddy swallows thickly before responding. “Enough?” He prompts.

“Enough to convince you what you could be.” Aleister pauses to shake his head and lightly chuckle. “No. What you _are_. I thought my attention alone would suffice, but in hindsight I realise I was listening to my ego instead of my head. Regardless, I will strive to rectify this wrong. To prove myself to you.”

Buddy can’t stop a hysterical bark of laughter from clawing its way from his throat and Aleister finally drops his hand. “What the ever loving fuck are you talking about? You beat me! Multiple times! You have nothing left to prove. Why— why are you doing this? Couldn’t you have just ambushed me and bashed my head in like a fucking normal person?” Buddy shoves him and he falls against the same case he’d been perched upon only a few moments before. “I stole your chance of winning the rumble. I don’t care what you say about only having yourself to blame, there’s no way you truly believe that. So hit me. Get your revenge.” He spreads his arms out wide, offering himself up to Aleister.

“Would you have taken my hand, Buddy?” Aleister asks softly. “Would you have taken my hand had I been brave enough to offer it?”

“I don’t know!” Buddy all but shrieks. How no one has come running to see what’s going on is a miracle. “I don’t— Shit. It doesn’t matter now, though, does it? Because you didn’t. You left me there. Sitting alone by the side of the ring.”

Aleister squeezes his eyes tightly closed and slowly exhales as if trying to regain his composure. “And that is a burden I’ll have to bear for as long as I walk this earth.”

Buddy snorts. “Stop being so dramatic,” he says and fuck, he doesn’t mean for it to come out sounding so fond. Aleister’s lips quirk up in amusement, fast like a flash of lightning and just as blinding, before falling back into their impassive, straight line.

“I won’t do you the disservice of saying Seth is using you as I’m positive you’re well aware.” And he’s right, Buddy is aware, so aware it keeps him up at night, but that doesn’t stop the sting of hearing it out loud. “I also won’t tell you to be careful. You’re more than capable of looking after yourself. But I will say this: I look forward to the day I see you standing over him with your boot pressing down on his windpipe.”

Buddy shivers. He can picture it so clearly. Seth’s hair spread out across the canvas, his limbs bent at uncomfortable angles like a puppet that’s had its strings cut, as Buddy holds a title high above his head. Not a tag-team belt, but something bigger, _heavier_. Something he’s dreamed about holding ever since he was a kid.

The problem is he’s not alone. There’s someone standing beside him, gripping his wrist firmly. And Buddy knows exactly who it is.

“Congratulations again, Buddy. I’ll see you soon.”


End file.
